The Boy with the Green Eyes
by Bella Kundu
Summary: Snape pays a visit to 4 Privet Drive on the night Lily dies. While there he makes a vow to protect Harry Potter - a vow that he will never fail to keep.
1. Her Eyes

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, I am merely borrowing her creations. I own nothing. At points in the story I may phrase things in ways that are similar to or the same as parts of the Harry Potter books and movies, I do not own that either.

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**Her Eyes**

The night was black. The deserted streets still seemed to carry echoes of the laughter of Trick-or-Treators from a few hours earlier. But to Severus, their laughter was empty, nothing more than hollow sounds that mocked him. He remembered _her _laughter, her smile like sunshine. Her eyes. They were green, and bright, and full of a life that she would never have a chance to live. Her eyes were empty now. His life was empty. Everything was empty. How could anybody laugh when she was no longer there? Lily. He would like to think of her as _his_ Lily, but she wasn't. He had grown to accept that, accept that she had chosen to build a happy life with Potter. After all, James had everything one could want in a husband. He was selfless, loyal, handsome, he could ride a broom… on another day, Severus might have smiled bitterly at the thought of the Quidditch hero who was so full of himself. But tonight Severus was devoid of smiles, devoid of bitterness. He'd thought that he lost Lily the day that he'd spoken that forbidden word. He could almost taste the sourness of the word in his mouth, touch it with the tip of his tongue, trace it with his lips. _Mudblood_. He hadn't said it since. But now Severus knew that he hadn't really lost her then, in his fifth year. He had not lost the moments when he looked at her across the many heads of students filling the Great Hall. He hadn't lost the moments when she was bent over a cauldron in potions class, the strands of hair that tumbled over her shoulder curling slightly in the steam rising from the potion she was brewing. He hadn't truly lost her until tonight. He would never again see Lily Evan's eyes sparkle with anger or glow with joy or twinkle with merriment. She was gone.

But the night was growing cold, so Severus pulled his cloak tighter around his body, and squinted up into the glare of the streetlight, looking for the street sign. There it was - Privet Drive. Severus couldn't help but roll his eyes at the large houses one after another, all alike. Leave it to Petunia to pick such a common neighborhood. There was no mistaking that Muggles lived here. He looked up and down the street, searching for the house number, but it was unnecessary. He could plainly see the small bundle on the front steps of one of the houses, and Snape strode towards it, his cloak billowing out behind him and whipping back in the wind. He leaned over the bundle, looking down at Harry Potter. The little boy was sleeping, his chubby little hand curving over a letter. Snape gritted his teeth at how wretchedly naïve Dumbledore could be; no matter how many times Severus had insisted that Petunia would loath having to take in the Potter brat, Dumbledore stood resolute.

The boy's black hair stuck up messily at the back of his head, and the lightening scar was partially obscured by a tuft of hair. Even as a baby, this was clearly Potter's progeny. Could Lily not have imparted one feature to her child? Must the child be all James? Severus's hands clenched into two tight fists, the cords in his wrists standing out, and he whirled around to leave. He should have known that coming here would do no good. What comfort could possibly be found here, with this living testament of that fact that Lily had chosen James over him? Two paces from the front door, however, Severus froze as he heard the child making soft sounds as he slept, gentle gurgling noises. Snape turned back in time to see little Harry's long eyelashes flutter, and then open. Without thought, Snape found himself kneeling on the front steps of a stranger's house, bent over Harry Potter and gazing rapturously into his eyes. _Her_ eyes. Lily Evans's beautiful, green eyes were looking wonderingly up at him. A terrible and exquisite pain that was part wonderful joy and part excruciating loss filled Snape's chest as he looked deep into those treasured eyes that he thought he would never see again. In that moment, it did not matter that there was a prophecy sentencing this innocent boy to a dangerous future. It did not matter that Voldemort was gone. It did not matter that wizards and witches the world over exulted in the triumph of the famous Boy Who Lived. To Severus, there was no Boy Who Lived. There was only a boy with Lily's eyes, a boy that Severus would protect at all cost.

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A/N: This is only my second fanfiction. I hope you like it. The idea for this came to me randomly, so I wrote it without any specific plan for it. For now it's just a one-shot, but later I might continue it - I'm not sure yet. Either way, thanks for reading, and please review!


	2. Atonement

**Atonement**

Severus was pacing back and forth in his study at Spinner's end. He held a scroll of parchment tightly in one fist, and in the other hand was a photograph of Lily. It was a Muggle picture, the images unmoving, frozen in that moment. However, despite its stillness, the picture radiated life. In it, Lily was young, only fifteen years old, and she was standing in a playground, with a brightly painted swing set in the background. Severus titled his head slightly as he stared at the picture, and suddenly it seemed as if he could reach his hand out into the sunny day, and touch Lily's blazing red hair, which had been blown, disheveled, across her face in the apparent wind. One hand was raised in an attempt to hold her hair back, her eyes were squinted against the glare of the sunlight, and her lips were parted slightly in laughter. She was positively glowing with vitality.

Severus blinked, and the image became flat again, the fleeting mirage of depth and motion disappearing. He sighed, and placed the photograph on his desk, the tips of his fingers lingering longingly on the shiny surface of the picture as he withdrew his hand. He'd been there at the playground that day, the place where he and Lily had met, standing on the other side of the camera and taking the picture, the picture that now commemorated their last summer as friends. Severus lifted another picture, a clipping from the Daily Prophet announcing a marriage. In this image, and man and a woman stood in an embrace, Lily wearing a long white satin gown with her hair pinned up in a soft chignon, and Potter wearing a dark tux, gazing rapturously down at his new wife. The couple in this photograph were moving, whirling, their arms encircling each other in a close embrace. Severus remembered that day as well, a day he'd spent making lists of Blood Traitors and Muggleborns for the Dark Lord, wondering, with each time he wrote the word "mudblood" next to a name, if he would have been the man in Lily arms that day, if it were not for one thoughtlessly spoken word…

Returning sharply to the reality of the present, Severus shook his head, angry at his lapse into sentimentalism, and threw the newspaper clipping, too, onto his desk. It mattered not the effect of that solitary word, because regardless of all of it, he'd brought about the death of Lily Evans… Lily _Potter. _He'd joined the Death Eaters to protect Lily. What better way to ensure that he'd be able to warn her if her name appeared on a Snatcher's list than to be the one going over the Dark Lord's lists? But despite everything Snape had done, Lily was dead because he had carried a tale to Voldemort.

Severus was trying to tell himself that it was for this reason alone, to atone for his hand in Lily's death, that he was about to apply for a teaching position at Hogwarts merely so that he could watch over the son she'd given her life for. He tried to tell himself that it was not because he'd caught a glimpse of Lily in the green eyes of her infant child. But regardless of what Snape told himself, when he closed his eyes, he was haunted by the face of Harry Potter sleeping on the Dursley's doorstep. Severus unrolled the parchment he held in his fist and dipped the point of his quill into a pot of ink on his desk. With a decisive stroke of his hand, Severus signed the papers applying for a Defense Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts.

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A/N: It's been a while since I've updated this because I was working on my other story, "The Prince." Sorry for the delay. This was a short chapter, but I hope it didn't disappoint. Also, if you're reading this story, it would probably be good to know that for now I'm planning on this just being the Harry Potter books from Snape's point of view. Just so that you don't get your hopes up for some interesting, creative plot just to be disappointed. I hope that I haven't dissuaded you all from reading this story. I would also like to give a special thanks to Analie209 for a lovely, kind review that made my day, since I couldn't send a Private Message to say how much it meant to me. Thanks to everybody who read this, and please review.


	3. He is His Father's Son

**He is His Father's Son**

Ten years later, Severus stood barefoot in his tiled kitchen, and pushed the window open to admit the owl whose beak had been tapping impatiently at the window pane. A warm summer breeze blew into the house, ruffling Severus's deep green dressing gown and blowing the short ends of his hair across his face. The handsome spotted owl extended a leg and Severus took the parchment that it grasped in its talon. He extended a fist for the owl to perch on, and shut the window, carrying the letter and owl to the table. Severus broke the red seal embossed with the Hogwarts crest and unrolled the parchment, reading the letter that followed.

_Professor Snape,  
__We regret to inform you that we must reject your application for Defense Against the Dark Arts._

Severus stopped reading for a moment, closed his eyes, and sighed with exasperation. This was a familiar charade the he and Dumbledore carried out each year for the past decade. Ever since Lily's death, he'd applied for the Defense post and every year Dumbledore had responded with a formal denial and a casual explanation of how the job was cursed and Harry needed Severus to be permanently at Hogwarts more than Severus needed his dream job for one year. Severus knew that what Dumbledore said made perfect sense. After all, the only reason he was teaching was so that he could watch over the Potter boy once he started his magical education. But Severus always played along, year after year, knowing the outcome could never change. He couldn't bring himself to apply for the Potions position, because Lily had always wanted to teach that class. _She'd been so good at potions…_ Severus stopped that train of thought quickly, opened his eyes, and returned his attention to the remainder of the familiar rejection letter.

_However, we would like to offer you the position of Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. The Hogwarts staff welcome you to a year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_ Yours sincerely,  
_ Minerva McGonagall  
_ Deputy Headmistress_

Severus laid the letter down and wrote out a hasty note of acceptance, tied it to the leg of his owl, and released her out the window again. This was the year Lily's son would attend Hogwarts for the first time, and Severus craved to see the boy, to see if he'd grown into any of Lily's features since that brief glimpse of the newly orphaned infant of Halloween night. Those green eyes had haunted Severus's dreams for ten years, and Severus yearned to finally have a chance at redemption. For the first time, Severus truly looked forward to the first of September.

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Hogwarts was a flurry of activity. It was the first day of the term but the Hogwarts Express had not yet arrived, and the day had been a blur of preparations for the welcoming feast and the Sorting ceremony. Severus, having finished unpacking his things in his quarters, was walking through the corridors of the castle, savoring the last few hours of moving about the building without hundreds of children underfoot. He paused by the teachers' lounge and entered, feeling unusually sociable. The start of term always brought the teachers together in more amicable moods than was common during the rest of the year. As Severus took a seat in a wide leather arm chair, he caught a fragment of Professor Flitwick's conversation -

"I heard he's been raised by Muggles, didn't even know he was one of us until Hagrid went to fetch him! The poor orphan didn't even know how James and Lily died, those foul Muggles told him they were killed in a drunken car accident!" Filius squeaked in outrage.

_Rasied by Muggles. Orphan. Lily. _Severus's sharp intake of breath went unheard by all the teachers in the room, and they remained oblivious to him as his knuckles went white while his hands tightened on the arm of his chair. Of course everybody would be fixated on Hogwarts' new celebrity. How could he expect anything better of these mindless gossips? Chattering on about famous Harry Potter. Severus rose quickly, his robes swirling about his feet, his mind consumed in fire, his body moving mechanically.

"Severus, wherever are you going?" Professor Sprout broke in, laying a restraining hand on Severus's left arm before he could leave the room. Severus's jaw clenched as the teacher's hand pressed against his Dark Mark. It was nothing more than a reflex, his Mark hadn't so much as tingled since Lily had died - _no, since Harry survived_, Severus corrected himself. It couldn't possibly be right to allow one's life to center around one person like that, especially a person who was no longer there.

Severus sank slowly back into his chair, trying to block out the sound of the teacher's voices. But it proved impossible, snatches of the teacher's voices breaking into his thoughts. "Little boy capable of saving our world"… "Lily sacrificed herself for him"… "really no match at all for You-Know-Who."

"How do we know the child's so prodigious? He was just a baby, he couldn't know what he was doing. Let him prove himself first, rather than coddling him with sugar-coated preconceived notions that are most likely rumors conjured by idle minds," Severus spoke up sharply

"Why Severus, you were good friends with Lily in school. Surely you cannot deny that her son achieved an amazing feat. He is clearly a great wizard. I'm certain he'd do James and Lily proud," Minerva countered.

"I'm certain we can't know what Lily would've thought about it, because she's gone. Discussing it will do nothing. I'm going to prepare for the start of term feast, Merlin knows they'll be wanting help in the kitchens." Severus fled from the room before he could hear Lily's name spoken one more time and tried to quell the feeling of nervous anticipation towards the moment when he would see those green eyes again. It occurred to Severus that he had come to regard Harry's arrival with a kind of eagerness that he would have scorned had it been expressed by another person, and he gritted his teeth in frustration at his own hypocrisy.

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An hour later, Severus was seated between Dumbledore and the new Defense teacher, Professor Quirell. Severus had an immediate dislike towards him, and it was something more than his usual resentment towards whomever the Defense teacher happened to be. Quirell was a timid, stuttering man who gave the impression of being submissiveness personified, but Severus couldn't bring himself to trust him. He was sure he'd have made a better teacher…

The large oak doors to the Great Hall abruptly swung open, disrupting Severus's calculating thoughts and in poured hundreds of students who chattered excitedly, calling across the room and beckoning to their friends. Eventually they dispersed to their separate House tables, and Professor McGonagall rose and conjured a stool on the raised platform before the staff table. Dumbledore passed her the raggedy Sorting Hat, handling it with careful respect bordering on reverence, and Minerva placed it on the stool where it sagged, the pointed top drooping slightly. Minerva left the room to collect the first years, who were no doubt already being harassed by Peeves. Severus drew himself up to a more erect position in his seat and tried not to lean forward with anticipation. The Dark Lord may have been vanquished for the time being, but a good spy never ceased to play his role.

The doors opened once more, and Professor McGonagall marched in leading a group of timid looking first years who were clustered together tightly, standing closer together than was necessary as if each was seeking the physical presence of another to assure themselves that this was not merely a fantastical dream. Severus scanned the group of children, not knowing what features to search for to find Harry Potter. As his eyes passed over the children, a shock of brilliant red hair caught his attention, and Severus saw what must be Ronald Weasley, a tall, gangly, freckled boy who was pale with apprehendsion but had a sort of gleam in the depths of his expression that left Severus with no doubt that Ron Weasley would be as much of a mischief-maker as his elder twin brothers. Shaking his head at the havoc an addition to the Weasley clan could wreak on the school, Severus idly laid eyes on the boy Weasley was speaking to.

The boy was small, with a slight fame, a narrow pale face with round glasses, and untidy black hair that stuck up in the back despite the numerous times the boy ran a nervous hand over the back of his head. The boy turned towards the staff table and looked over at the teachers. Severus's heart swelled, and then without warning sprinted off, pounding against his ribs at a wild pace. Looking up at him was Harry Potter, but all Severus saw was Lily's wide almond shaped eyes set in the face of James Potter. Severus's throat constricted, and he looked away, casting his eyes down and trying to smother the pain of his disappointment. Harry Potter looked exactly like James, his green eyes the sole physical imprint Lily had left upon him. The eyes of his old love were watching him from the face of his worst enemy. The moment ten years ago when Severus had found hope in those same eyes was a moment from another world. He realized now that Harry Potter was living testament to the fact that he hadn't been good enough for her, that she'd chosen Potter over him. Severus found an irrational hatred filling him, one that crept like fog from the center of his chest outward until he was glaring at the boy. He was being rent in two by love for the girl who looked out at him from her son's eyes, and a loathing towards this likeness of the man who had stolen his hopes of a future with that girl. Snape closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, gratefully letting his longish hair slide forward to hide the pained expression on his face.

Nothing, however, passed unnoticed under Dumbledore's long, crooked nose. "Severus, my boy, he _is _his father's son," Dumbledore said softly, leaning over to Severus. "You cannot expect Harry to give back what you lost when Lily died." Dumbledore's eyes were blue pools of sympathy and understanding that Severus did not want.

"Nobody can replace _her_, I am not fool enough to seek that, Headmaster," Severus snapped, not trusting his voice enough to say Lily's name aloud.

"Then what _did _you seek in Harry?"

"What I sought is of no consequence, for I see that I will not find it there. The boy is just like his father, sure to be as arrogant and prideful, his sense of self worth inflamed by fame earned by a feat he does not even remember achieving," Severus growled, all the more frustrated by his vivid awareness that he was shielding himself by unfairly berating the child.

"My dear boy, surely you do not mean that. Harry may look like James, but he has, as you know, his mother's eyes, and that shows there is a part of Lily alive in him yet. He will accomplish great things."

"I repeat, I am not trying to find her in the Potter brat, Headmaster! And you cannot know that he is destined to become a hero. Harry Potter is but a child, do not attempt to force his future to fit a prophecy made by Trelawney. He deserves better than a life predetermined by that fraudulent old bat. You do not know him, nor do you know the person he will become!"

A gentle smile spread over Dumbledore's face. "As is often the case, you are right, Severus. But your little outburst has shown me that, despite trying to convince yourself otherwise, you do care for the boy."

Severus opened his mouth and closed it, and then, speechless, found his eyes wandering, unbidden, back to Harry Potter.

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A/N: It's been a while since I've updated, and I'm sorry for the delay, but this chapter is longer than my usual, so I guess that's some compensation. I wasn't sure if I should include Harry's Sorting, but I decided not to because I feel like that was only a big event for Harry - Harry was the only one insecure enough to doubt that he'd be in Gryffindor; I'm guessing all the other teachers expected it, so I thought that it wouldn't be crucial from Snape's point of view. I'm trying very hard to stay in character, especially with Snape, but I'm not sure if I am. I would love to know what you think of this story, so please review! Also, I'm not satisfied with this chapter's title, so suggestions are welcome!


	4. New Students

**New Students**

Severus was waiting in his classroom, admiring the smell of fresh sticks of chalk and the clean blackness of the chalkboards. He lifted one of the old potions books and leafed through the pages, holding the book up to his face and deeply inhaling the smell of paper and ink. He smiled, there was nothing better than that scent and he tipped his head closer to the fresh pages. This was part of what made teaching tolerable for him. Footsteps echoed faintly in the hallway, drawing nearer to his classroom, and Severus shut the textbook hastily and replaced the slight smile on his face with a scowl, lest a new student see him grinning over a book like a fool. Severus was a spy; he had a reputation to uphold.

A small girl with very bushy brown hair rounded the corner into his classroom. Severus smirked slightly at how proudly this early arrival carried herself, decked out in Gryffindor colors, complete with a red and gold striped tie. She deposited the rather large stack of books the was carrying on a desk in the front of the classroom, and then walked boldly up to Snape, extending her hand across his desk for him to shake and saying with confident certainty, "I'm Hermione Granger, I'm a first year student here, and I'm very pleased to meet you."

Severus struggled to keep his smirk from widening into an all-out grin and, refusing to respond to her outstretched hand, said with more severity than was warranted, "Take a seat Ms. Granger, introductions are unnecessary, I will take roll call when the rest of the students arrive."

The girl, appearing only slightly daunted at Severus's less than cordial response, instantly went to a seat in the front, opened one of the books, and proceeded to bury her nose in it. Severus braced his hands on the edge of his desk and leaned forward a bit, trying to see what she was reading without being obviously nosey. _No doubt some rubbish childrens' literature that will clutter her brain with useless nonsense_, Severus thought absently to himself. Squinting his eyes slightly, he caught sight of the title, "_Hogwarts, A History_" a very informative book that most seventh years hadn't bothered to read let alone this eleven year old girl. Granger turned a page of the fat book, unaware of her professor's silent approval. Severus thought vaguely to himself that this might be a Gryffindor whom he could tolerate.

Voices filled the halls as more students finished with their breakfasts and headed off to class. A cluster of Slytherin boys entered the classroom, and Severus offered a small smile to the tall, blonde one who seemed to be at the center of the group. He grinned back smugly and came towards Severus. Draco Malfoy was the son of Lucius, a Death Eater who had thoroughly spoiled his son and creating a selfish, conniving bully. Severus loathed the Malfoys, for they were a family in sharp contrast to the cruel up bringing Severus had experienced, and because of it Draco had become the most insufferable child.

Draco sauntered up behind Severus's desk as though he owned the classroom and, like Hermione, reached out a hand to shake, which Severus reluctantly accepted. "I'm awfully pleased that you're my professor, Sir. Father will be glad to hear of it. Father always says that you're the only teacher who's got any sense in this nest of owl droppings that Dumbledore runs."

"Good day, Draco," Severus said, forcing a grimace-like smile onto his face instead of glaring, as he wanted to, at the slight to Dumbledore. "I'm glad to see that you've brought some good blood into Slytherin House. Talent like your's is what's helped us win the House Cup for ten years running." Severus was sorely tempted to drop the pretense of being fond of the Malfoys, but instead he attempted an indulgent smile that seemed to satisfied Draco, for he turned away to rejoin his friends. It was these moments, the ones during which Severus was forced to become somebody that he was not, that Severus loathed being a double agent spy the most.

Severus's attention was drawn away from Malfoy as he saw a tall boy with red hair enter the room, just a few minutes before the bell rang for class to begin. Naturally, Ronald Weasley _would_ manage to be nearly late on the first day of class. Snape easily brushed this thought from his mind as his body tensed with anticipation, hoping and expecting Harry Potter to be with his friend Weasley. Severus tried to keep an eye on the door while at the same time attempting not to appear as though he was eagerly awaiting the Potter boy. Severus caught his breath as Harry entered, looking for all the world like James as he looked curiously around at the classroom, peering with mild disgust at the creatures preserved in jars on the shelves, and then running a hand through his hair as he gave a pointed look at Hermione Granger and then took a seat next to Ron in the back of the classroom, far away from Hermione. Severus tore his eyes away; the room of eager first years were watching him with wary anticipation, and he could hardly get a good look at Lily's son in peace with all these eleven-year-old eyes upon him. Severus slowly released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and, straightening the papers on his desk, lifted a sheet of parchment and commenced roll call.

The letter "p" was excruciatingly far down the list of names, and it was with relief that Snape finally looked up to meet those green eyes as he said with a voice so full of sincerity that it sounded severe, "Potter, Harry."

Harry looked up and raised his hand briefly to acknowledge his presence, and was about to drop his eyes to scribble something on the scrap of parchment he'd been passing back and forth with Ron, when Severus, determined to hold those eyes with his own for a moment longer, said with no particular intention in mind, "Ah, yes." Severus internally scolded himself for showing excessive interest in Potter, and then remembered that it was likely other teachers had paid special attention to the Boy Who Lived during the first roll call as well. Latching onto this thought, Severus regained his façade of harshness and said snidely, "Harry Potter. Our new - _celebrity_." Severus managed to put ten years of bitterness into the last word, and then, with a slight pause for dramatic effect - and apparently an opportunity for Draco to smirk broadly - continued with the roll call, assured that he'd maintained his role as a double agent.

As Severus finished with "Zabini, Blaise," he found himself yearning to look at Potter again, but gritted his teeth and instead turned his attention to Potions, something he was passionate enough about to draw his attention away from all other distractions. He spoke quietly and slowly, pouring all his love for the subject into his words which, quiet and reverent though they were, kept the class silent. Severus finished his introductory speech with a stinging sleight to his students' intelligence, and struggled not to smile at the look of indignation on Hermione Granger's face, who had unwittingly inched to the edge of her chair and was listening with rapt attention.

The tenuous thread restraining Severus snapped, and he said abruptly, "Potter!" and turned toward the boy, who looked up, surprised. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he asked, eager to see if Harry had inherited Lily's natural skill at potion-making.

Severus's heart sank as he saw the blank look on the boy's face and the quick glance at that infernal Weasley child. Hermione's thin arm shot vertically into the air, which irritated Snape enough for him to smother his disappointment and remark with more venom than was warranted by failure to answer a question, "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

Rebellious anger sparked slightly in Harry's eyes, and Severus flinched slightly as the anger became righteousness, turning the boy into James. Severus bit his lip and tried again, determined to find a piece of Lily behind those eyes.

"Let's try again." Twice more, Severus failed to get a correct answer from the boy.

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her," Harry said at last with all the cocky arrogance of his father, eliciting a few appreciative laughs from the other Gryffindors.

Furious at himself for allowing himself to expect something out of _Potter's _son, Severus whipped around, his black robes swirling at his feet, and saw Hermione, who had risen from her seat and was looking as though it took all her strength to not wave her arm about childishly. He snarled, "Sit down!" and her arm dropped like a limp flag on a still day. She sank back into her chair, blushing.

Severus forced his mind to cling to the subject of Potions as though it was a lifeline, refusing to acknowledge Potter and instead giving the answers to the questions Potter hadn't been able to answer. Seeing that the class was still staring at him apathetically, snapped, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" The class obediently retrieved ink and parchment from their bags, but Severus, still burning with regret and an odd feeling of loss, took a point from Gryffindor for Potter's insolence. Severus only felt worse when he saw the slightly injured look in Lily's - _no, Harry's_ - eyes, and quickly turned to the board to write instructions for the class's potion before he could have time to reflect on why he was so crushed by a child's inability to answer a question.

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A/N: I haven't updated this story since forever ago, I'm sorry I've been so horrible about updating. I've been having issues with the website, whenever I click on "Edit" to update my stories it tells me that there is a "Type 2 Error." I tinkered with the URL so now I'm able to update, but the problem isn't really fixed so if anyone is experiencing the same thing or knows how to fix it properly, please PM me, because it's been driving me crazy to not be able to update my stories. I hope I haven't lost the interest of my readers in all this time. I also hope the story isn't boring my readers, since the plot is nothing new. One more thing: I've been getting lots of hits, and I'm very happy about that, but I'm not getting many reviews. So please review, it doesn't matter to me whether your reviews are praise or criticism or just a random comment, I just want to know what you think. I guess it's not good to beg for reviews, but it's been a little discouraging. Thanks to everybody who has reviewed, I really appreciate it.


	5. The Mirror of Erised

**The Mirror of Erised**

Severus strode into the teachers' lounge, holding a stack of papers to grade in one hand and a large pot of red ink and a quill in the other. He moved quickly to his favourite seat in the lounge, a little nook in the corner, far enough away from the fireplace to be a bit distanced from most of the other teachers, but close enough so that he could hear their conversation if he listened. He set the ink on a small corner table and balanced the papers on one knee, twirling the quill dexterously between his long, slender fingers. He was in the process of covering the majority of Weasley's essay with an indecent amount of red corrections scrawled across the paper when he heard Harry's name.

"Harry transfigured a matchstick completely today!" he heard Minerva saying excitedly. "And he was so proud when it turned shiny and pointed. Of course the needle wasn't perfect - the eye of the needle was missing and it wasn't quite as thin as a needle ought to be - but we've only been working on if for a few days and he's caught on so quickly! James and Lily would be bursting with pride," She said with an air of affection that Severus rarely heard in Minerva's voice when she spoke of her students.

"Surely, Minerva," Snape said quietly, leaning forward with a gleam of malice in his eyes, "surely Miss Granger was able to accomplish that feat far before Potter." Severus loathed the fact that Potter's accomplishments were somehow considered to be more deserving of praise than that of others. It reminded him strongly of the preferential treatment from both teachers and peers that in which James had basked merely because of his ability on a broom.

"Yes, indeed she did, on the very first day, but you cannot deny that Harry has made admirable achievements. His progress stands alone, separate from Hermione's."

Severus's eyes narrowed. "Ah, but nobody speaks of Miss Granger. Potter apparently deserves, as I suppose must be expected for a coddled hero, more acknowledgement than his _normal_ counterparts. How silly of me to think that the celebrity would be treated as he should - like everybody else."

"And how has he done in your class, Severus?"

"He is nothing more than mediocre, shows no superior talent, has accomplished nothing beyond what I would expect of any other student."

"Yet you do not treat him as you would any other student, Professor. If I favor him, then you are certainly at the opposite end of the spectrum." McGonagall said rather severely, drawing herself up to her full height and speaking to him in the tone she used to reprimand students. Severus cursed the fact that she'd once been his teacher, he could never entirely shake off his former role of a student and become an equal to her when she acted so dignified.

"I asked him questions that he would have known the answers to had he bothered to glance at his textbooks. You would call that unfair?" Severus answered, forcing himself to fight back. "Potter thinks that because he is famous he can conquer the school curriculum the way he conquered the Dark Lord - that is with no conscience effort on his part."

"You attribute James's lust for attention to his son. Harry cannot possibly behave as you say - he didn't know he was a wizard until Hagrid told him just this July, let alone that he was famous. Fame has not gone to his head, Snape, and I will not tolerate unfair treatment towards Harry or any of my other students, regardless of silly childhood asperities you still harbor towards James." Minerva swept away impressively, leaving Snape with no chance to respond.

He finished with Weasely's essay and then flipped it over, exposing the four foot ream of paper Miss Granger had turned in. He read through it rapidly, unhindered by the inaccuracies, omissions, and poor grammar scattered through the other students' essays. He was unsurprised to find that it was all correct, but slightly disappointed that she hadn't been able to articulate the material differently than the textbook had. In his three classes with the first year Gryffindors that he'd had so far, Hermione had surpassed the others in both the theory and practice of potion-making, and Severus had looked forward eagerly to reading her homework, for he was certain she'd have a novel way to present the material. However, the essay, though thorough and impeccable, was nearly verbatim to the book. He knew instinctively that she would never have copied directly out of the book, but to him memorization was the same thing. She could do better, her potions wouldn't have been nearly as good as they were if she'd had no intuition of her own. He dipped the tip of his quill in the red ink pot at his side, and wrote in large red letters "Accurate, but nearly word-for-word comparable to the textbook." Hermione could do so much better if she would give up her belief that the textbooks were perfect. Severus could see that she had surrounded herself in a world structured by an absolute trust in authority, but he was positive that she could surpass the books if she was willing to accept that such a thing was possible and think for herself.

Severus looked up idly and caught sight of an all too familiar gesture. Across the room, Professor Quirrell flinched suddenly and clamped his hand over his left forearm, then rose, taking his time to excuse himself from his conversation with Professor Sprout, but then nearly running from the room. Severus imagined a Dark Mark underneath Quirrell's robes smoldering painfully and turning black, and his hand twitched instinctively towards his wand, his muscles tensing to spring into action. _No_, Severus tried to pacify himself, _it doesn't mean anything, anybody could touch their left arm for a number of reasons, don't be so paranoid… _But even as he tried to reassure himself, Severus was already rising from his chair, his eyes on the retreating back of Professor Quirrell. Severus quickly banished the papers he was grading to his quarters and then, slipping his wand back into his pocket but keeping his fist closed tightly over the handle, followed Quirrell out of the teachers' lounge and through the hallways.

"… M-m-my Lord, the boy seems harmless enough. He is like a-any of his other classmates," Quirell's voice, more timid than ever, issued faintly from a classroom. Severus drew up to the doorway quietly and stood with his back pressed against the wall, his legs crossed with his feet braced against the floor of the hallways. He shook his hair out of his face with a fluid motion, and then cocked his head, listening carefully.

The soft, hissing voice that replied sent shivers down Severus's spine. "I tell you the boy is dangerous! Do you dare contradict me? I hardly expect you to be able to kill the boy when I, the most powerful wizard our world has seen, could not. Your blundering foolishness will do more harm then good. Forget Harry Potter. You are concerned only with the Stone. You will steal it, and I will return, and Harry Potter will wish he was never born. You will not fail, will you Quirrell?"

"I w-w-will t-try, my Lord."

"_You will not try! _You will succeed, lest you wish to be reminded of our… exchange, shall we call it, when you failed in procuring the Stone from Gringotts."

"Yes, my Lord. I will get the Stone." Quirrell whispered.

Severus did not wait to hear any more. His long, smooth strides were carrying him towards Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Half an hour later, Severus was seated at Dumbledore's desk, having relayed the overheard conversation to the headmaster, who was leaning forward towards Severus, unruffled, his hands clasped in front of his and his eyes unconcerned.

"I assure you that I appreciate your report and that I have utmost confidence that your suspicions are well founded and well placed. But you will understand if I have my own reasons for doing nothing about it at the moment."

"Dumbledore! You are hiring a Death Eater!" Severus exclaimed with considerable irritation. He flushed as Dumbledore cast a very pointed gaze towards Severus's own left forearm. Severus glared. "Rather, an active, dedicated Death Eater."

"My dear boy, I assure you that I know what I am doing. Have trust in an old man." Anybody else would have shrunk under the withering look Severus offered, but Dumbledore smiled gently and said mildly and unexpectedly, "How are your new students?"

"I did not come to make small talk, Albus," Severus said sharply.

"You rarely do, Severus. But my question was not without reason, so you'll very kindly answer it."

"The new students are as they always are - generally careless, irresponsible, and foolish."

Dumbledore sighed. "You know what I am speaking of Severus. Kindly do not play dumb with me, it is an insult to your intelligence and mine. I am asking you about Harry Potter."

"He is just another student and I will treat him as such - I see no need to single him out for discussion."

"But you already single him out, my boy."

Snape groaned in frustration, he felt like this was parallel to the conversation he'd had earlier with Minerva. "I did not! He should have known the answers to my questions, I would have expected it of all my students, not just Potter!"

"No, Severus, I wasn't referring to that particular incident. You watched him, only him, at the Sorting, and I'm sure that you paid him specific attention in class for the same reason. You torture yourself with his eyes. You seek Lily in him, regardless of how vehemently you try to deny it. I see how you look at him. You look like a man searching for something he's lost. Because that's precisely what you're doing," Dumbledore said gently.

A flicker of pain kindled in the back of Snape's eyes.

Dumbledore continued in a voice dripping with sympathy, "You don't see Harry Potter when you look at him. You see his parents. And it tears you apart. What you're looking for is gone. It will do no good to dwell on what no longer exists."

Severus felt as though a band of iron was wrapping around his lungs. He was smothering under the weight of his past. He was far away, in a world sequestered from reality, a world of pain that was echoed in his face.

"Come with me, Severus. I want to show you something." Dumbledore opened a small tin and grabbed a fist full of glittering green powder from it. He tossed it into the fireplace, and said quietly, "Library." Severus forced himself to stand and follow suit, and a moment later was stepping onto the hearth of a library fireplace, brushing the Floo powder from his long fingers.

Dumbledore began silently threading his way through the rows of shelves, not bothering to look back to see that Severus was following. They made their way to a classroom near a pair of suits of armor, and Dumbledore reached out and opened the door, then stepped back to allow Severus to enter first.

Snape walked into the room cautiously, and then he saw it. A tall full length mirror stood propped against the wall with an ornately carved gold frame surrounding it, the inscription "_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_" written across the top.

"Go on," Albus instructed, placing a hand on Severus's shoulder and pressing forwards slightly. Snape moved slowly, allowing himself to stand fully before the mirror. He felt exposed, vulnerable. He had read about this mirror, and he was afraid of what it would show him. The dusky glass in the dark room blurred for a moment, like ripples marring the still surface of a pond. Severus blinked slowly, and when he opened his eyes, Lily was standing before him in the mirror.

She was wearing a long, slivery dress that draped over her body with the kind of elusive, fluid flow of an Invisibility Cloak. Her hair was long and loose, falling in soft dark red waves down her back. Her face seemed so real, endowed even with the slight imperfections Severus had embraced, her nose scattered with a few faint freckles and her bottom lip slightly too full to match the top. Severus crossed the room like a man in a dream, and reached out to her. He was relieved that he was absent from the image, he was loath to mar her with his presence. His hand was rising towards the glass, and Lily's arm swung forward too. Severus's breath came in quick, short succession as he leaned towards this apparition, forgetting Dumbledore watching from behind him, forgetting the empty classroom he stood in, forgetting who he was. There was only Lily, and she had come back for him. She was there, reaching out to him, he was going to touch her at last… Snape's fingers brushed against flat, unforgiving glass.

The haunted look that had smoldered in the back of Severus's eyes flared into a blaze, and Dumbledore looked sadly into the anguished face of a man who was burning with pain.

"Lily…" Snape whispered.

"I know," Dumbledore spoke into the quiet room. His words hung suspended in the air. "When you are ready to be fair to Harry, you won't see her anymore. You'll see Harry. Remember what the glass felt like? Lily didn't feel like that. She isn't real."

"She is," Severus insisted, his voice hard.

"She was. She isn't anymore. But Harry is. Harry is alive, and real, and has a future, and he needs you. The mirror can destroy a man wit temptation and longing. But you don't need the Mirror of Erised to do that. You are doing it to yourself. And I expect better of my Potions Master." Dumbledore turned on his heel and left, his face no longer sympathetic.

Severus, on the other hand, turned back to the Mirror of Erised, to Lily who seemed to gaze back. He pressed his lips lightly to the glass, and then took a few slow steps away from her, placing himself at a respectful distance. Snape hoarsely whispered, "Goodbye, Lily." He turned away and forced his body to take measured steps toward the door when every fiber of his body was trying to either flee or rush back to the apparition in the mirror. He had a powerful urge to take one look back at her face, but, knowing that if he turned back now his resolve would disappear, he instead bit his lip and kept his head resolutely forward. He made it to the hallways outside the library and then sank into a stone alcove partially obscured by a suit of armor. Snape sat still for a moment, trembling, and then crumpled, crushed into himself by the void in his chest.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is longer than usual, and I've posted it sooner than usual, so I hope you enjoyed it! It got kind of angsty at the end, and I was rather unsure of that part and if I did it well or not; it's harder than I thought it would be to make Snape grieve for Lily properly. So tell me what you think of it, I'm really anxious to know if you all like it or not. Please, please review, I want to know what you think!


	6. Prodigy

**Prodigy**

Severus was standing, bent over a large iron cauldron, the ends of his hair curling slightly in the steam that rose in long sinuous wisps toward the stone ceiling of the dungeon. He took his wand and drew the tip of it across the blue-grey contents in slow counterclockwise circles, thirteen of them, before wiping the end of it clean on the fringe of his robes and glancing at the potion to make sure that it had darkened to the proper shade of navy blue. Judging it to be satisfactory, he flicked his wand and the potion rose from the cauldron and dropped into a vial, splashing a bit. He sealed it tightly, and then strode from the dungeon with the flask.

Snape mounted a spiral staircase that led up to the office of the Defense teacher. He paused a moment to rap swiftly on the door, which was slightly ajar, but continued into the room before waiting to hear Professor Quirrell's answer, and said, as he entered, "The restorative potion you requested, Professor."

Severus pushed the door the rest of the way open, and met the sight of Quirrell, turban part way unwrapped, saying in a nervous voice as his fingers ran lightly over the back of his head, "My Lord, whatever your wish, I will do it, I am your servant, your faithful, faithful servant. What services do you require? Anything, my Lo-" Quirell stopped speaking when he saw Severus and sprang into the corner of the room, trembling from head to toe.

"I see that I have interrupted something," Snape said, his voice soft and silky and dangerously quiet. "Perhaps I should have waited for you to rewrap whatever you are so frantically clutching at to hide, _Professor_." Severus's voice was carefully contained, but as he watched Quirrell grasping the fabric and struggling to secure it, Snape's hand was inching steadily towards the hem of his pocket, fingering the handle of his wand.

"Severus! What a p-p-pleasant s-surprise! Oh - my potion - thank you! S-so good of you to make it," Quirrell said, backing rapidly out of the room."

"In a hurry, Quirrell? It seems that my appearance was, indeed, a _surprise._" Severus hissed, not even tempted to smirk in the face the coward who shrunk before him.

"Why S-S-Severus, surely you wouldn't p-p-pick a d-duel with a fellow teacher?" he whispered, eyeing Severus's hand, which was now fully inside his pocket, wrapped around his wand's handle.

Severus snorted in disgust. "As if you were worth it. But you might do well to be reminded that nothing goes unnoticed in Dumbledore's school." He whirled on his heel and stalked from the room, fuming. He was determined to speak to Dumbledore again. The old man may have formulated his own plans, but this was not a matter of a mere suspicion and overheard conversation anymore - there was evidence, solid evidence beneath that foul-smelling turban. Severus turned in the direction of the Headmaster's office, fuming.

Suddenly, he heard a chorus of panicked squeals and shouts from an open window. He moved briskly to the window and braced the palms of his hands against the stone windowsill, leaning out. Below him was the first year flying class, unattended by any teacher, faces turned upwards and frozen with surprise and horror. Hundreds of feet from the ground, nearly at Severus's eye level from the window of the tower, flew Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, Malfoy darting and zigzagging higher and higher against the too-bright sky, with Potter in hot pursuit, seeming elated and surprised and furious all at once.

Severus faintly heard Draco shout something at Potter in what was unmistakably a mocking tone, and then Malfoy tossed a small round object into the air. Snape was unconcerned with Malfoy's descent as he saw Potter yank the broom around and angle the handle down before flattening himself against the length of it in a steep dive as if he'd done so a hundred times before, rushing at terrible speed toward the ground in pursuit of the small ball that was falling rapidly, glittering as it caught the sunlight.

Severus was reaching for his wand, whipping it from his pocket, but the ground was rushing up to meet Potter all too fast; there was no time to perform a levitating charm and Potter would surely break his neck in his imbecile bid for attention - but suddenly Potter snatched the little ball out of the air, pulled his broom level at the last moment, and then he was standing on firm ground unscathed, his face shining with excitement as he thrust the hand holding the object triumphantly into the air.

The image seemed to shift and all Snape saw was a reflection of James Potter in the way the flying class surged around Harry excitedly, the way his fingers were curled firmly around the Remembrall that Harry waved above his head and how in his other hand Potter raised the broomstick in exultation, so proud and thrilled and _sure _of his own ability. He might as well have been James Potter, the Remembrall could have been a Snitch, the grassy field was like a Quidditch pitch, and the cheers of the Weasley child were just as enthusiastic as any he'd heard at a game. How could the wretched child know to fly, he'd been raised with those Muggles! Could he not at least have inherited Lily's endearing fear of flying? Of all the things Snape had hated about James Potter, it was his ability on a broom that stung the most, the way he was so comfortable, so confident, so _at home_ in the air, and Severus was eternally jealous that Potter had that security while he, he had no home at all.

Severus swore softly under his breath and was already considering how many detentions he would give Potter for such a moronic stunt when he saw Professor McGonagall hurrying across the grounds, beckoning to Potter, and marching him across the grounds into the castle. Satisfied with the knowledge that Minerva was just as liberal with handing out punishments as he, Snape left the window.

* * *

"A _broomstick!_" Snape thundered a week later, standing across from Dumbledore in his office, who was seated behind his desk with his fingertips pressed together, looking at him with an air of amusement and patience.

"First years are not allowed broomsticks, Albus!" Severus continued, frustrated all the more by Dumbledore's apparent ease. "Potter should have been expelled rather than rewarded for his lack of regard towards rules. You cannot make an exception because he is famous, it will go to his head - as if his head is not already overly inflamed. It is not reasonable that the rules should be bent for him, nor is it proper that members of the staff are buying gifts him gifts. Think of the other students- as am I!"

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked, pushing a tin of candies across his desk.

"This is not tea time, I have potions to prepare, papers to grade, I have not come for a lemon drop," Severus snapped.

"Do you really wish to know what I think, then, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, a note of steel in his voice.

"Yes," Snape answered curtly.

"Then I say this: You are not thinking of the other students, either, so do not presume to do so. You know as well as I that you disapprove of the boy's playing Quidditch because of James - let me finished, Severus, you asked what I thought," Dumbledore said, anticipating a rebuttal. "I let him play not because of his fame, but because of his talent. If any other student exhibited such skill I would permit him or her to develop it as well. Harry will play for the Gryffindor team if he chooses to, and you will not devise your own method of justice with which to punish him. Are we clear?"

Severus set his teeth and glared. "Very well, Headmaster. Do not tell me that you were not warned when disaster comes of this."

* * *

A/N: First of all, Happy 4th of July to all the Americans reading this! Second of all, I apologize for the v_ery _long wait for this update. I have had awful writer's block for all things Harry Potter for months. I'm still not at all pleased with this chapter, but I think the best thing to do is just post it and move on and hope that the following chapters are better. So sorry for the long wait and the poor quality of this chapter. I hope I haven't lost all my readers! Anyway, please review, and thanks for sticking with me!


	7. Somewhere Only We Know

**Somewhere Only We Know**

The castle was decorated with orange and black streamers, enchanted bats that fluttered over the ceiling of the Great Hall, and large carved pumpkins flanked every suit of armor in the hallways. Halloween was everywhere, and Severus hated it. Halloween meant more than Dung Bombs and foolish pranks, more than students more concerned with their first Hogsmeade trip of the year than their classes, it meant Lily. Her absence, everywhere, all around him, crushing in on him from all sides. How could somebody that wasn't there be so conspicuous? How was it that she had to have been murdered on a day when everybody was supposed to be lighthearted?

There were classes on Halloween, even though most teachers just accepted the fact that students would be too excited about the upcoming feast to pay attention. Because the 31st of October was always full of preparations for the feast and trying keep the sugar-laden students out from underfoot, Severus rose in the dark every Halloween because it was only then that he could find time to make his annual pilgrimage. He rose before the sun and padded across the sparsely furnished quarters in which he spent the school year. Other teachers, he'd observed the few times he'd had cause to be in their rooms, decorated their place, made it home-like, and they were always surprised that he hadn't. But Severus didn't need to decorate to be at home, not when Hogwarts had been his home even when he was too poor to have knickknacks to spread around, not when he heard long lost echoes of Lily's footsteps in the corridors, and especially not now when he saw replicas of her eyes every day in the first year Potion class. That was more than enough.

Except for today, because on Halloween not even the Boy Who Lived was enough, which was why Severus was awake at five in the morning, his woolen cloak wrapped tightly around him against the pre-dawn chill in the air that made his breath curl in rising wisps of vapor into the black air. Severus stepped across the grounds, his feet crunching conspicuously on the crushed stone path that led to the gates of the school. He stepped on a dead tree branch and it cracked loudly, startling an owl from the tree he was passing under. The flutter of ruffling feathers over Severus's head sent cold shivers up the length of his spine, and he tucked his chin further into the high collar of his warm woolen cloak. Snape liked to think that he was not a fanciful man, but here in the eerie darkness of night he couldn't help but draw his cloak closer around him and recoil from the darkness that seemed to press in on him.

Severus reached the entrance to the school grounds and flicked his wand at the ornate wrought-iron gates, causing them to swing open before him and then reseal themselves once he had passed through. Severus spun on the spot, closing his eyes tightly, and the familiar whirling sensation told him that he'd apparated successfully. He opened his eyes, still a bit lightheaded, and looked around him.

In the first few years of this pilgrimage, the playground he was standing in had changed each time he'd come. First the playthings rusted, then the weeds took over, choking the once manicured lawns he and Lily had played on, then not even the neighborhood boys wanted to play hide and seek in the deserted playground. Its life seemed to have been extinguished along with Lily's. In the past few years, though, it had seemed the same at every visit. Maybe a few more vines here and there, perhaps the swing set creaked a bit more loudly than it had the pervious year, but the decay had leveled off, and now Severus knew what to expect when he materialized on the playground every Halloween, and even if he didn't, he knew better than to be sentimental about their old playground moving on and changing without him. At least, that's what he told himself…

Severus stepped over to the swings and sat in one, feeling rather silly doing so, even though he was sure that nobody could see him in the darkness of a deserted playground. He toed the ground with his foot, making the plastic seat sway back and forth slightly. He leaned over and plucked a flower from a plant growing nearby. It was wet with dew and closed for the night, but Severus cradled the creamy white blossom in the palm of his hand anyway and stared at it, hard, willing the petals to open, unfurling before him, revealing the fuzzy sunshine-yellow center before folding shut again.

Severus knew it was bad practice to channel magic through something other than his wand, but it had been the first magic he'd ever seen Lily perform, when she was showing off to her Muggle sister, and it made his hand grow warm and tingle, made every nerve in his fingertips alive and sensitive to the touch, and so Severus closed his eyes and leaned his head against the metal chains of the swing, feeling, rather than seeing, the petals of the flower open and close at his will.

The sun began to rise, and Severus could see the brightness behind his eyelids, so he opened them and tossed the flower aside. He was running out of time, and he'd come to do more than play with flowers. He left the swing and approached the woods behind the playground, picking his way over fallen logs, through the now unfamiliar scenery, approaching the faint glow though the shrubbery that indicated his and Lily's clearing.

He stepped into the grassy area and walked up to the large rock that protruded from the ground, the rock that he and Lily had spent many a summer afternoon leaning against, pouring over Potions books.

"_Apericium_," he whispered into the pink glow of morning light, flourishing his wand in front of the rock.

Slowly, words began to appear on the granite, words he'd carved with magic ten years ago and then hidden with a disillusionment charm. The stone yielded its shape to the letters that showed, until engraved on the stone's surface in classic lettering were the words

_On this day died  
__**LILY EVANS**  
__(January 30, 1960 - October 31, 1981)  
__May she rest in peace._

Severus knew that his engraving was brief and ineloquent and that "Evans" had ceased to be her surname years ago. He understood that it was unnecessary, redundant, that Lily had a grave, a real one, one below which her body rested. But Severus also knew that he could never go there, that as a spy he could not be seen making a yearly journey to the place where his supposed master had been defeated.

So here he was, bent over a rock, raising his wand and conjuring a bouquet of violets. Lily had adored violets. Everybody always insisted on giving her lilies for any occasion that warranted flowers, even Potter. He alone knew that she hated how everybody assumed that she'd want lilies just because of a name she'd had no say in choosing. Severus laughed out loud softly as he remembered her eleven-year-old outrage about the matter, how they'd discussed the subject of names and flowers as if it was of utmost significance.

Severus realized anew that Lily would never again tell anybody about her flower preferences, and his laughter died in his throat, turning into a pained, strangled noise that surprised himself. He bit his lip, hard, and placed the purple blossoms at the base of the rock in a little hollow. He leaned over, against the rock, and lightly pressed his cheek to the cool, rough surface. Severus closed his eyes and found himself remembering a warm Halloween day with Lily decades ago, when they were both fourteen, the image materializing in his mind with extraordinary clarity, as though he was watching it in a Pensive.

* * *

"_Sev?"_

"_Yeah?" he had asked, looking over to watch her with fascination, marveling at the way her hair fanned out across the grass she lay in by the Black Lake. The soft breeze picked up a few strands of her hair and they shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, bits of gold shinning among the auburn waves._

_She propped herself up on an elbow and Severus let his eyes run over her face, observing how the freckles over her nose that she was so embarrassed about had recently begun to fade, and how it made her look even prettier , something he'd thought was impossible._

"_I told Potter I would go on…" here she paused and wrinkled her nose, "a _date _with him_._"_

"_You _did_?" Severus exclaimed, sitting up suddenly, his body casting a shadow over Lily. The jealous beast that slumbered in his chest was wide awake all at once._

"_Mhmm." Severus took comfort in how reluctant she looked. "On the next Hogsmeade weekend," she elaborated._

_The beast snarled. "Why? You hate him. _We _hate him," Severus said, unable to resist putting emphasis on the fact that they were united in their scorn towards Potter._

_Lily sighed heavily. "I made a deal with him," she admitted reluctantly. "He said he'd leave you alone for a week if I'd go out with him. He said he'd make it a month if I kissed him, but…" Lily trailed off and shrugged, as if the horrors of that prospect ought to be self explanatory._

"_WHAT?" Snape shouted._

_Lily frowned, not understanding the meaning of his outburst. "Well, I'm sorry, but I can't just go about snogging people so that they'll let you be. A week is pretty good. Last time he offered, it was just a day."_

"_No, that's not… I can't _believe _you!" Severus spluttered._

_Lily sat up too, looking confused and hurt. "What's your problem?"_

"_My problem is that you're going out with people so that they'll leave me alone!" Severus almost shouted._

"_And?" Lily prompted, her voice matching his in anger._

"_And I don't need you to protect me! I can handle Potter just fine myself, thank you very much, so you can take your pity and go use it somewhere else, on someone who actually wants it!" Severus snapped._

"_You are the most ungrateful-" Lily stopped short, and crossed her arms, glaring._

_Severus sprang to his feet. "What? Just what were you going to call me?"_

"_Nothing, only I would think you would have a better way to repay me than this."_

"_I don't owe you anything for something I don't even _need_!" Severus yelled. "I didn't ask you to do this, and what's more is, if you'd given me the choice, I'd have told you to tell Potter to go shove it!"_

"_You know what, sometimes you are just like Potter, you know that, Severus?" Lily snapped._

_That struck Snape like a slap in the face, and he slumped back down onto the grass. "Sorry," he murmured, even though he didn't entirely mean it._

"_It's okay. It's just a few hours on one weekend, and then we can forget about it."_

"_Yeah." Snape smiled shyly, and they both lay down again, Severus's hand only inches away from hers and aching to move just the tiniest bit and be able to touch her creamy white skin._

* * *

Snape opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the memory faded away. That was the first time, the very first time, that she'd seen him as anything less than an equal. The first time her sympathy turned into pity. The first time out of many to come in which she had distanced herself from him, revealing that she saw him as an outsider in need of help, not one of her own. Pity was the one thing Snape had most loathed about being poor as a child. When Lily had begun to pity him, he should have known that it was over. He would be nobody's charity case, and least of all hers. When Snape looked back on it, he thought bitterly that it was no wonder she never saw that he loved her. Over time, she had ceased to see him at all.

Severus rose, weighted with twenty years worth of regrets, and gave a final gaze towards the violets. He pressed his first two fingers to his lips and blew a kiss to Lily's makeshift grave, wondering if she could see him from wherever she was, and whether she would bother to watch even if she could.

* * *

A/N and Disclaimer: What did you all think of the flashback? It wasn't there originally, but I felt like the chapter was kind of bland with no dialogue whatsoever, so I decided that it would be an opportune time for Snape to reminisce. I like it a lot better now, I feel like it fills out the chapter, but I've never done a flashback in any of my stories before, so let me know how it turned out! I've been intending to do this chapter for a long time now, so did I do justice to Snape's love for Lily? Snape's so stoic, so I find it hard to convey emotion through him, but hopefully I did alright. Also, the title of this chapter comes from the song "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane, but I found it on Glee, so credit goes to both of them, neither of which I own. I do, however, wish I owned Blaine. Review if you love Blaine!


	8. Fluffy

**Fluffy**

When Severus apparated just outside the grounds of Hogwarts, he was only mildly surprised to find Dumbledore standing there, waiting. Snape sighed and walked up, already resigned. He'd long ago learned not to try to avoid the Headmaster. When Dumbledore wanted something, he was sure to obtain it, and there was no use in putting off what he desired.

"Headmaster?"

"I think, my dear boy," Dumbledore said leisurely, "that we have known each other long enough now for you to call me 'Albus.'"

Sueverus restrained himself from giving Dumbledore the scathing sneer that he'd have bestowed upon anyone else who'd made such a vapid remark, and only raised his eyebrows, waiting for what Dumbledore had really come to say.

"No? Well, well, it was merely a suggestion… though I'm surprised at you, Severus, to be stubborn over such a petty thing."

Snape gritted his teeth; it was just like Dumbledore to find a way to be condescending regardless of his response. "Very well, Albus, what brings you outside so early in the morning?"

"I could ask you the same thing," the headmaster said, removing his glasses and squinting at them before replacing them on his long crooked nose.

"But you did not," Snape persisted, "So you'll tell me why you left your comfortable quarters and chose to stand by the gate to the school for Merlin knows how long."

Dumbledore smiled, so ingratiatingly at ease, and said patronizingly, "You're aware, I know, that it is impossible to Apparate or Disapparate inside of Hogwarts, but you may not have known that I placed an enchantment that extends beyond the Hogwarts grounds which will alert me of any disturbances. Naturally I wondered what pressing need would bring you to leave the school before dawn."

Severus rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you're aware of the date and the circumstances."

For once Dumbledore managed to look somewhat abashed, and he murmured, "I went to Godric's Hollow… I expected… I couldn't find you there, so you'll kindly explain what you did to remain unseen there."

Severus tried to hide his irritation at the way the tone of Dumbledore's request left no real option, and instead laughed silently at how Dumbledore managed to exact, without using any magic, a level of command over him which even the Dark Lord had never attained.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, waited patiently and tugged lightly on his long beard, saying gravely, "I fail to recognize the joke, Severus."

"You weren't able to locate me at Godric's Hollow because I never was there."

Severus internally scolded himself for the childish satisfaction he derived from eliciting some surprise from Dumbledore, who opened his mouth for a moment in an uncharacteristically undignified way, and then asked incredulously, "Where, then?"

Severus's satisfaction disappeared as quickly as it had come, and he mumbled quietly, "Spinner's End." His stomach tightened uncomfortably and his mouth grew dry - he'd told Dumbledore about his unhappy childhood the night Lily died because it was necessary that all the secrets come out - but Dumbledore had had the grace to never mention it again. Speaking of it now, after so many years of trying to pretend that the first seventeen years of his life had never existed, was more uncomfortable than Severus had anticipated.

Severus found himself hating the way the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes dimmed and softened into something akin to sympathy, and he snapped testily, "Stop _looking _at me like that."

"Like what?" Dumbledore asked innocently. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"_Yes_," Snape admitted. "Don't stare like I'm a kicked animal to be pitied."

Dumbledore arched a pale eyebrow. "Do you see yourself as a kicked animal, Severus? It would be understandable, considering your loss-"

"Do not speak to me about loss, Headmaster, not tonight," Severus said, his voice calm and low but holding a quiet warning.

Dumbledore sighed and said merely, "Back to 'Headmaster,' are we? I suppose I deserve it this time… well, you went to Spinner's End and…" Dumbledore trailed off, turning the end of his sentence into a question.

"I visited the playground," Severus muttered, speaking each word through his teeth as though they were being forcibly torn from his lips. He was loath to continue, but Dumbledore's steady, penetrating stare was aggravating enough to goad him into saying, "We used to play there, and I remember her there, better than I could had I gone to her and _Potter's_ love nest."

"I understand why you won't refer to me by first name, but why do you refuse to say Lily's name?" Dumbledore asked obscurely.

Severus flinched from the word, and yanked his cloak more closely around him, hoping to attribute it to the chill of the morning air. "I fail to see the relevance."

"You miss her," Dumbledore said gently.

"Whether or not I miss her is none of your concern," Severus snarled, realizing even as he did so that his indignation may as well have been an admission of guilt.

"And Harry being here doesn't help," Dumbledore persisted infuriatingly.

"That's absurd," Snape snapped. "I can distinguish between _Lily_" - he forced his throat to say the word - "and her brat of a child."

Dumbledore smiled and said quietly, "Funny how the absurd can sometimes be the purest form of the truth." He paused a minute to watch Severus's face and see the effect of his words and then continued calmly, "I know you surely hate me at the moment, but I had to see that Lord Voldemort remain unaware of your continued love for Lily, and popularity has never been my highest concern, so feel free to take your anger out on me."

"Yes, yes, we all know that you have no regard whatsoever for what opinions others harbor towards you," Severus said impatiently. "I've been spying for you for ten years, and the Dark Lord has gone anyway, I should think that it's not necessary for you to supervise my every action."

Dumbledore frowned gravely and said, "If the suspicions you have about Professor Quirrel are correct, then the Dark Lord is not so far away as you might think, my dear boy, and as our good friend Alastor never fails to remind us - constant vigilance!"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "If my suspicions concern you enough to try to spy on my _personal _business," he said slowly, "why have you not taken them seriously enough to suspend Quirrel from teaching? Surely you would be, as the Muggles say, 'better safe than sorry?'"

"I cannot suspend a teacher without just cause, and a conversation that only _you _heard, out of context, is not enough to found an accusation upon."

"And do you put emphasis on the fact that it was I to hear him because I am not a trustworthy source?"

Dumbledore sighed and looked, for once, honestly regretful. "I trust you, but the Ministry is unlikely to heed the advice of an acquitted Death Eater."

Snape scoffed and turned away, beginning to walk back towards the castle without bothering to see if Dumbledore was following. "You have your way with this school and you know it, Dumbledore, do not expect me to believe that you ignore my warnings because of the Ministry."

"I have no choice, it is not my decision."

"Fudge would do what you said, he would not object!

Severus paused and looked back to see that Dumbeldore had not moved, and was looking up at the waxing gibbous moon, tugging pensively on his beard. "Severus, I'm sorry," he said quietly, the words so soft that they hardly reached Snape's ears.

"So am I," Snape answered, his words loud by comparison, slicing crisply through the morning air. "I hope for your sake that I an wrong, but know that I do not make unfounded accusations."

Severus turned to go again, and he did not pause to hear the newest reason Dumbledore would have to not trust him.

* * *

Severus had expected Halloween to test his patience, what with bothersome students who'd had far too much sugar compounded with his exchange with Dumbledore in the morning. However, by the time he took his seat in the Great Hall that night for the feast, he was in a fouler mood that he'd anticipated. Hermione had been mysteriously absent from class, and between the lack of any ounce of competency remaining in his first year potions class and Weasley's evident preoccupation with her all through the morning, he was all too eager to return to his quarters and sleep until his world righted itself and returned to normalcy.

"You never require Sybil to leave her world of fantasy and join us for dinner," Snape grumbled to Dumbledore, not really expecting anything to come of his remark as he gazed pointedly at Professor Trelawney's seat, which was - as per usual - empty.

"It's the feast, and you're a head of house - you have a responsibility to be present."

"Quirrel isn't here either," Snape pointed out, arguing back merely for the sake of being difficult.

Dumbledore was about to respond when the doors to the Great Hall burst open unexpectedly, banging loudly against the back of the walls, and Quirrel himself rushed in, pale, sweaty, and shaking. He ran to the table, and gripping it so hard his knuckles were white, panted, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

Panic flooded through the Great Hall, and Snape was on his feet instantly as the teachers tried to maintain calm. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath. "Would it have been so difficult to whisper it instead of announcing it to the whole school? A fool could see that the children shouldn't know-" Severus froze as he realized that perhaps pandemonium was just what Quirrel _wanted_.

Trolls were Quirrel's specialty, he'd even used one to protect the Sorcerer's Stone. _The Sorcerer's Stone._ The next instant, Severus had swept away from the Great Hall, breaking off from the stream of students to rush to the forbidden corridor in the third floor, not even bothering to be discreet about the fact that he wasn't hurrying to the dungeons with the rest of the professors.

"_Alohomora_," he whispered urgently when he reached the locked door. He pushed it open, and then sank against it with relief when he saw that the three-headed dog guarding the Stone was perfectly fine and bristling furiously over the still firmly shut trapdoor.

"Thank Merlin," he whispered, closing his eyes in relief for a brief second. A second that ended very rudely when the mutt sprang forward and its center head clamped down firmly on Severus's ankle. He hissed in pain and swore viciously under his breath as he drew his wand back out from his pocket and flicked it at the dog, muttering "_repello canis_," between clenched teeth.

The effect was immediate; the dog sprang away instantly and moved back until it was centered over the trapdoor, its hackles still raised and its eyes not straying from Severus's form, but no longer attacking. "Why on earth would someone name that brute _Fluffy_?" Snape growled under his breath as he shut the door and stooped to examine the deep, ugly wound in his leg. He cast a quick spell and bandages shot out of the tip of his wand and wound tightly around his leg, the white gauze rapidly becoming stained red.

He thought of going to the hospital wing, but quickly decided against it as he realized all the questions he'd be facing. He was contemplating his other options when Mrs. Norris appeared around a corner, Flich following before behind her before Snape could move. Snape forced a smiled and said smoothly, "Argus. Just the man I was looking for. You can keep a secret, can't you?"

Snape concealed a smirk as Filch quickly agreed. The man was so ostracized that he'd give in to Snape's wishes if it meant he'd get a moment of respect. "Then you'll give me a hand with this leg?" Snape smiled almost genuinely as he set off to his office with what was the perhaps the only man at Hogwarts more bitter than himself, satisfied that the pain in his leg meant that - for the time being at least - the Stone was safe from any turban-clad minds which were plotting to get it.

* * *

A/N: I'm so sorry for not updating this sooner! I hope I haven't lost my readers... but if you've gotten this far then I probably haven't lost you, so thank you for your patience! I have a new poll up on my profile, so feel free to check that out, and please review!

This chapter is dedicated to all my friends on Pottermore because without their love and encouragement and kindness this chapter probably still wouldn't be written. Thanks to all of you fellow Gryffindors who read my work! Go lions!


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